The broader point of this post has been on my mind for months, but I have not been able to figure out how to actually express my thoughts on it. However, I am in Hong Kong and it’s the middle of the night, so I thought I would give it a go. The overall theme of this is “owning your kink”, something I have struggled with for years. For me, it’s been a staged effort where most of the time I am not actually aware I have slipped into another stage of ownership until it’s presented to me in some way. This week, that presentation was me standing at the transit security check at the Seoul Airport at 3am in the morning while watching each of my chastity cages, and their supporting rings, wands, and other bangles, ride through the big gray tray all shiny and sparkling like little erect penises lined up proudly in a row.
To go back about ten minutes, I was transferring planes in Seoul on my way to China (I’m in Hong Kong now which is how I can write this) and my plane was almost an hour early arriving at something like 3:15am. I was one of the few connecting souls in Seoul (see what I did there?), so the transit line wasn’t very long and I, being toward the front of the plane, was toward the front of the line (as an FYI, for those who may not know my lingo, this area is where if you are connecting to another international flight, you simply have to have your carryons’s rescanned by the country you are in before being allowed into the airport).
Indicative of most other things in my life, my carryon backpack is very compartmentalized with each compartment also has little zipper pouches thus further giving all sorts of clues to my type A side. As we have discussed, Axel does not make my fly internationally locked for a variety of reasons, but he likes to choose which device I wear where (again, see what I did there?) so I take them all in a small zipper gray pouch along with six or other little pods that contain medicine, chargers, cords, more chargers, my Dodger’s cap, and a few more chargers. I have actually been commended by airport security before because it’s easy for them to see and, when they have had to open my bag for something, the little packs just go in the tray and I wait, repack and am on my way.
Except this time. This time as my carryon pushed through to me, I had that sinking feeling that one gets when they see their other bag come out of the shoot, lift slightly, go left, and then ride the conveyor belt behind the plexiglass as if they have surely found out I was carrying something I had no idea I had. As the bag came to rest, these two Korean agents who didn’t speak a word of English motioned me to stand on the two yellow feet on the floor as they proceeded to open the back and lift each little pouch out. That has happened many times to me in the past and they run the bags back through, smile and let me pack and leave. However, this time, I watched as the two men unpacked each of my cubes and laid all the items out one by one on the tray. As freaked as I was I did realize that they had done a fabulous job is setting a beautiful display and my cords and chargers were stunning and, again, I was moire freaked that I really didn’t care because those are part of me and that’s that. Then, then, they got to the penis bag containing everything and anything I have used to control my penis or those peni around me.
He lifted the bag, I wet my pants a little, and then he proceeded to lay every thing out, each screw, wand, ring, and phallic shaped device (I had my two Steelwerks and one Steelworxx Steelheart in there) was perfectly arranged on a beautiful display of control that might be what a museum in the year 2230 would show when talking about primitive orgasm control. As this happened, they did not make a single glance my way, didn’t say a word to each other, and he took my tray and broke into the line of families now ready to be processed and laid it down and let it ride. I felt like I should be mortified, but I wasn’t. I was worried about what pictures I would have to draw in the small booth as there was no way I could even think to make google say “locked dick” in Korean. I so wanted to take pics and document this, but, of course, they also had my phone.
So, as my penises slowly rode the belt of shame, I waited being quite proud of myself for not turning red, not shaking, or not doing anything other than planning on trying my best to tell the story of Thumper, me, orgasm denial, and butt plugs, all in Korean at 3:30 in the morning. But, nothing happened. My other items came through and the agent gently packed them back into the cubes and put them in my bag, but when the dick bag came, he actually packed it all back up, carefully making sure he got every screw and bauble and then zipped the bag and, instead of putting it back in my bag, he walked around the glass and handed me the bag with the two hand gesture often used in Asian countries, said something in Korean, and then sent me on my merry way.
I have no idea what he said but am so fucking curious it’s making me laugh over and over again. But, we shall see as I am off to New Zealand tonight and get to play this airport game over again.